God's Lions - The Dark Ruin

by John Lyman

  Once the huge blue and white yacht had been secured to the dock, Lev and the rest of the team carried their sea bags down the gangplank and jumped into a couple of parked Land Rovers for the short twenty mile drive to Lev’s villa by the sea. Shortly before Ariella had been born, Lev Wasserman and his late wife, Carmela, had purchased two hundred acres along a section of the coast known as the Israeli Riviera, and it was there that they had built a small farming cooperative safe from the constant threat of terrorist bombings that had plagued Israel’s cities for so many years.

  Turning off the main highway that paralleled the sea, everyone squinted in the sun’s reflective glare as it bounced off the sugar-white sand dunes that separated the villa from the sea. Standing three stories high, the imposing Mediterranean-style structure was set back from the beach, connected to the sea by a rickety boardwalk that ran through the dunes to the edge of a sparkling blue swimming pool surrounded by palm trees curved toward the land by the ever-present sea breeze.

  People of various ages could be seen walking the property, the most noticeable being the young men and women of the villa’s security force dressed in olive-colored shirts and matching shorts. From the beachfront to the gatehouse to the fields, these dedicated young people could be seen everywhere, patrolling the property with radios and automatic weapons slung over their shoulders in an effort to protect their families from those who would see them driven from the land.

  Scattered around the property, twenty smaller houses were tucked in among the vineyards, orchards, and planted fields that made up the farm. These single-family dwellings were used mostly by professors and graduate students who lived there free of charge in exchange for providing security, growing the community’s food, and taking care of the villa. In short, the entire compound was very much like a communal kibbutz—an environment Lev had been raised in and preferred over life in the city.

  After stopping briefly at the gatehouse, the vehicles passed beneath an overhanging sign displaying both a Christian Cross and the Star of David before heading up a paved road to a circular driveway that fronted the villa. Stepping from the car, Leo looked back at the brown cross and blue star mounted over the gate—a subtle reminder to those who entered that the villa was home to both Christians and Jews alike, for all of the members of the Bible Code Team, including Lev Wasserman, were Christians, while some of those who lived on the compound were Jews.

  Walking up behind Leo, Lev stopped to follow the cardinal’s gaze. “I remember the first time I brought you here, Cardinal. You were still just a priest then, and you and John had just escaped from those rogue Vatican security men in Rome. You two looked like two lost sheep when I picked you up at the airport.”

  “We were two lost sheep, Lev ... until you took us under your protective wing. Without your help I wouldn’t be standing here right now.”

  “Yes, those were interesting times.”

  Leo squinted up at the sun. “I have a feeling our most interesting times lie ahead.” The two men headed for the house and made their way with the others down to the underground communications center located beneath the villa. Loaded with powerful computers and high-tech communications equipment in a glassed-in space that resembled a NASA command bunker, the underground center was the living, breathing heart of the Bible Code Team.

  Entering behind Lev, Daniel and a petite girl with long blond hair crossed the room. “Ah, Daniel, I see you’ve brought your new bride down into the lion’s den.”

  Sarah walked up to Lev and kissed him on the cheek. “Hello, Professor.”

  “What have you been up to while your genius husband has been away?”

  “I’ve been decorating our new house ... the small one next to John and Ariella’s. I’ve also been learning about wine-making. I love working in the vineyards here.”

  “Good, we need more talented winemakers on the compound.” Lev eyed a moody and distracted-looking Daniel as he laid his laptop on the table and flipped it open. “What’s eating at you, my boy?”

  “I was just listening to the radio. A suicide bomber just took out a pizza place in downtown Tel Aviv. When’s it all going to stop? I mean, can you honestly picture a lasting peace with religious zealots who use violence to convince people that theirs is a religion of peace? I can’t ... at least not in my lifetime. The chasm between the Islamic radicals and the rest of the world is just too deep. There’s something wrong with those people that no amount of talk will ever put right.”

  “The words divine intervention come to mind,” Leo interjected, pulling up a chair beside Daniel.

  “God’s will, Cardinal? Do you really think some kind of divine intervention will save us from crazy people who are willing to strap explosives to their bodies and walk into a shopping center full of women and children? They’re just suicidal criminals who were probably losers to begin with and wanted to gain some kind of notoriety before they checked out.”

  The room fell silent as Daniel took a few deep breaths and adjusted his glasses. Usually engrossed in his work, he was the embodiment of the classic academic. He was a man so focused and so driven, that all outside distractions usually failed to pass through his invisible shell, and this sudden outburst from him was out of character for a man who barely spoke above a whisper.

  “Have we heard anything from Paris yet?” Lev asked, breaking the awkward silence.

  Daniel ran his hands through his hair as he glanced around the room. “I just spoke to Alon. He only had a few seconds to talk, but he said that they had made contact with Eduardo and were on their way out of the city.”

  “Did he say where they were going?”

  “He didn’t want to broadcast their position, even over our encrypted network, but he said Ariella and John are fine.” Daniel managed a smile. “In fact, Alon told me they would both make good field agents with a little more training.”

  Lev drummed his fingers nervously on the table next to his computer screen. “I’ve lived that kind of life before and it’s not what I want for my daughter and her new husband. I never should have allowed them to go.”

  “The birds have to fly from the nest sometime,” Morelli said. “They said so themselves. It’s their time now. We’re all soldiers in a spiritual war ... and that means everyone.”

  Lev frowned as he stared down at a silent phone lying on a long glass table. “I’m dying to know what Eduardo is up to.”

  “I’ll try to get through to them one more time, Professor,” Daniel said, “but it seems that their phones are all turned off.”

  “Damn!”

  Daniel paused as he glanced at Sarah before looking over at Lev. “I’m afraid I have some more unwelcome news for you, Professor. I’m leaving.”

  “Leaving? But that’s impossible. We need you now!”

  “I’m afraid it’s out of my hands, Lev. I’ve been drafted back into the Israeli military ... unit 8200. It’s the Israeli equivalent of the National Security Administration in the United States.”

  “Did they say when you have to report?”

  “They’re sending a chopper for me in an hour. Something big is going on.”

  CHAPTER 17

  Adrian was pacing the floor of his room, frantic that he had not heard any news about his father since he had been airlifted to a Paris hospital following his apparent stroke. Peering from his second-story window, he could see guards with dogs patrolling the grounds below, and to make matters worse, his mother Colette had grown strangely quiet since his father had left.

  Over the past few days, a growing sense of rage had begun to replace the uncertainty and fear that had crept into his dreams and enveloped his every waking moment. It was a new sensation to a boy who had only felt joy in a simple life spent with parents who loved him. For all he knew, his father could be dead by now. Why was everyone refusing to talk about it? Maybe he was already dead and they were trying to shield him from the truth. But why? He would have to be told sooner or later. One way or another, he had to find out. He had a righ
t to know ... and he was going to exercise that right.

  At least he had his computer—his only link with the outside world, and nothing had been mentioned in the press about his father’s death. For now, the only news of his father’s stroke had been replaced instead with stories about how the Acerbi empire was now being controlled by his mother and her hand-picked cadre of top echelon executives; men of fierce determination who had been his father’s closest associates and had his best interests at heart when they made decisions in his name. The Acerbi fortune had to be protected at all costs until Eduardo regained his place at the head of the financial table, but if he was unable to return, the burden of control would fall to Colette until Adrian came of age.

  But things were different now that his father was out of the house. Vehicles full of strangers came and went at all hours of the day and night while Adrian had been kept away from entire sections of the palace. Why would they do that?

  Infuriated by circumstances and the inability to see his father, Adrian threw open the door to his room and began running through the palace. He would have his answers today, no matter how many toes he had to step on, including those of his mother.

  Bounding down a long winding staircase two steps at a time, he ran down a long hallway beneath huge crystal chandeliers that seemed to be floating above every open space in the cavernous palace. The echoes of his running footsteps over the marble floors announced his presence to the sleepy security men stationed around every corner, and a few even tried to stop him to ask him if he needed anything, but the look in his eyes made them shrink back in fear, for they saw something in his glance they had never seen before. If looks could kill.

  All around the compound radios crackled with the news that the young Acerbi was on the move and that he was in no mood to be trifled with. Running through a banquet-sized dining room, Adrian burst through the doors to a bustling kitchen, only to find his mother bending over a simmering pot of one of her famous stews. For a moment everything looked normal, his mother the picture of domesticity, but it was all an illusion carefully orchestrated to placate him—he was now sure of it. He had never been so sure of anything in his life.

  His father had told him that there was a time for waiting and watching, and then there was a time for action. Now was the time for action. Something inside the young man had snapped. His questions would be answered now ... or there would be hell to pay. He felt powerful, as if there were an electric charge coursing through his body. Colors suddenly seemed more vibrant and he could hear the muted whispers of staff members standing hundreds of feet away down the hall and even in other rooms. He could hear everything. It was unnerving. He held his hands over his ears in an attempt to drown out the voices, but it was no use. The room was spinning and his breathing was coming in short, shallow gasps as the sweat began to roll down his face. What was happening to him?

  “Adrian! What are you doing?” It was his mother’s voice, but it seemed far away even though she was standing right in front of him.

  “I want to see my father, and I want to see him now!”

  Colette stood frozen in place next to the steaming pot of stew. Her eyes narrowed with a sudden flash of realization. Adrian’s time was fast approaching, but these changes were coming too soon. Something was wrong. Was this his human side, the normal angst of a sixteen-year-old, or was something else trying to break free before it was time? She had to do something. Or rather—the thing inside her did!

  “Come now, son, stop shouting.” Her eyes flashed as she pointed to a chair. “Sit and eat.”

  “No, Mother. I want to see my father, and if you won’t take me to him then I’ll call the airport and order our pilots to fly me to Paris on the corporate jet.”

  “It is your father who has forbidden us to leave this place, my son. I am only following his wishes. The last thing he would want is for you to fly to Paris by yourself. He has some of the finest doctors in the world caring for him. There’s nothing you can do for him there.”

  “At least I can be there for him. I can look into his eyes and speak to him ... let him know I am there.” Adrian pierced his mother with a questioning stare. “Why aren’t we there, Mother? Why aren’t you there? Father needs family around him now. There’s something you’re not telling me, and if I don’t get the answers I want to hear in the next few minutes, I’m leaving for Paris to see for myself.”

  “Come now ... calm yourself. That’s impossible.”

  “No, Mother. You seem to be calm enough for both of us. I have to say that I find it very strange that you seem so detached from the whole situation. There’s something you’re not telling me, and you have exactly one minute to do so before I walk out that door and drive myself to the airport.”

  “Take him to his room and guard the door.”

  Adrian spun around to see two armed guards standing behind him. “What are you doing, Mother?” Adrian began to back away, then turned and started to run. He made it as far as the kitchen door before he was quickly subdued by the two hulking guards who gently lead him away as his mother looked on passively. Looking back over his shoulder as he was being led away, he shouted at the top of his lungs. “You’re not my mother!”

  CHAPTER 18

  The storm-tossed seas off the coast of Normandy greeted the two black Peugeot SUV’s as they drove through the French town of Avranches and headed west toward the mouth of the Couesnon River. Driving along the windswept shoreline, John and Ariella looked out across the glistening tidal flats at the misty signature of Mont Saint-Michel and the fabled monastery that had sat upon its granite perch, separated from the mainland by the sea for over a thousand years.

  “Is this it, Mr. Acerbi?” Alon asked as the SUV’s rolled to a stop.

  “Yes. Come ... we don’t have much time.”

  Led by the Israeli security team and followed by John and Ariella, Alon and Eduardo stepped from the back seat of the lead vehicle into a heavy rain that was blowing sideways off a turbulent sea. Leaning into the storm, they turned their collars up against the salt spray and slid down a sandy embankment before making their way across the rippled sand toward a stone causeway, the only link between the distant monastery and the French mainland.

  After checking the road behind them one final time to see if they had been followed, the group stopped at the end of the causeway and stared out across tidal flats that hid pockets of quicksand famous for trapping those who were unaware of the rapidly rising tides that swept in from the sea every day.

  “I don’t like the looks of this,” Alon said. “The tide is coming in and the waves are already starting to wash over the center of the causeway.”

  “We have no choice, Mr. Lavi,” Eduardo shouted over a wind that had begun to howl. “We have to go, and we have to go now!”

  “Then we’ll have to go fast, sir. Do you think you can make it?”

  Eduardo looked up at Alon’s hulking form and smiled. “If not, I’ll ride piggyback.”

  Alon grinned back. “OK, sir ... let’s go.”

  Without waiting, the group leaned into the wind and began trudging across the causeway into the building maelstrom. In the driving rain, the outline of the island faded from view just as a tall wave slammed against the side of the causeway and foamed over the smooth stone. A few seconds passed before the causeway drained, allowing the drenched and shivering group to continue their slow and agonizing pace to the halfway point of no return. Unable to go on without assistance, Eduardo leaned against Alon as they made their way forward into the swirling mist, until finally they could see the shrouded image of the monastery rising above their heads, its turrets now beacons that guided them through the arched stone entranceway where they collapsed behind the thick protective walls surrounding the main gate.

  “Is everyone here?” Alon asked, wiping the salt water from his eyes.

  “I count eight heads, sir,” a security man answered.

  “Good. We need to get out of this weather and find some dry clothes.”
>
  “We have everything you need,” a voice called out. Peering up toward the main gate, the group saw a tall man walking straight toward them, his white robes flowing out behind him. It was Pope Michael, and he was smiling.

  * *

  Led by the pope and his accompanying entourage of solemn-looking monks and Swiss Guards, the dripping group shivered in their wet clothes as they made their way up a winding ramp and through a grated portcullis into a grassy courtyard filled with trees. Finally separated from the howling winds, the sudden peace of the garden-like scene lay in stark contrast to the storm raging outside the thick walls of the soaring medieval structure.

  Wringing the water from her hair, Ariella stared up at the tall figure of the pope. “Is that who I think it is?”

  “Yes,” John answered. “That’s Pope Michael himself. The only question is ... what is he doing here?”

  Followed by at least a dozen monks, the pope opened a small wooden door and motioned for the group to follow. Once inside, they continued down a darkened hallway to a large circular area that was surrounded by massive columns and contained a shallow stone pool that resembled a Roman bath.

  The pope pointed across the steam rising from the clear, greenish water. “Through those doors on the other side of the pool you will find showers with hot water. There are also dry clothes inside the lockers against the wall. Please ... make yourselves at home. Once you are warm and dry we will talk.” With that, the pope and his entourage turned and disappeared down another hall as the group circled the pool and entered an area that resembled a health club locker room. Immediately, John pulled off his drenched sweater and began ringing the seawater out over a drain in the floor. “Well, that was certainly a surprise.”